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I can feel that my hair has gone completely wet with sweat. My abs are sore, like I’ve done a thousand crunches, or held a plank position for an hour. I haven’t been able to open my mouth thanks to the duct tape, but even still my voice is hoarse from all the screams I stifled early on.

And yet, I’m handling it.

Call it my submissive super power. When I’m on the edge of my limits, when I want to take it but it’s just a bit too much, something happens. My brain, that is, my rational thinking process, just splits off from my physical body. I still feel everything, but my reactions are now within my control — no more violent jerking, no more endless agony. Every few seconds, a jolt of lightning shoots through me the same as before, but I’m busy being programmed.

At some point, my response to Master Shephard owns your body switched from “Master Shephard owns my body” to “Master Shephard owns this body.” I don’t remember deciding to do that, but it makes intuitive sense. If he owns it, it’s not my body. It, and I, belong to him.

As if on cue, as I have that thought, Master enters the room. When the final cycle through the most intense shocks completes, it stops completely. I feel him unlock the sack and remove the electro gear. I feel completely numb as he handles me, then locks the sack over me once again.